Dangerous Addiction
by ThePirate'sBride
Summary: Joker's lust for blood is running out, and instead, a human lust is brewing. Suddenly, the rules of his game have changed. Suddenly, it's not about proving his point. Suddenly, he's addicted. To her. Pre&MidTDK. JokerxRachel. Rating may go up later.
1. 1 Would You Like To Hear a Story?

_Behold, the spawn of my new obsession; The Dark Knight. This is a JokerxRachel fic. Don't like, don't read._

**_Reviews are appreciated more than you'll know, so please leave one :)_**

Enjoy!

* * *

Dangerous Addiction

_Chapter One_

_Would You Like To Hear a Story?_

_--_

_Thursday 12th July, 2007. Gotham Times._

_**BATMAN SAVES THE DAY AGAIN**_

_Another heroic capture was achieved by Gotham's fabled 'Dark Knight' late last night, as two drug dealers were caught selling their merchandise to innocent passers-by._

_The drug dealers, who are being put on trial next month, claimed the drug, a dangerous substance known as Methamphetamine, or more commonly referred to as Crystal Meth, were a mix of sleeping pills and anti-anxiety pills._

_Only a few of the people bought the substance, but when police investigators interrogated the dealers, they admitted that the buyers had come back and asked for a refund. The dealers denied, but took the drug back anyway._

_Batman arrived before police, and intimidated the dealers, who then handed over all they were carrying illegally out of fear. When police got there, they reported that Batman had vanished, but would like to thank the Caped Crusader for his help in the situation._

_The dealers, for personal safety, have not yet had their names disclosed by police._

_Roger Peterson._

The man in the shadows scrumpled up the day's newspaper and sauntered over to the nearest bin, tossing the newspaper carelessly onto the floor beside it before returning to his original position; standing in the alleyway. Waiting.

The alleyway was dark, and not the most pleasant of places to meet someone. But this was their arranged place, and so he would wait here. He leaned casually against the wall behind him, which was the back of Gotham's most famous Chinese restaurant, _The Bamboo Shoot_. There was steam hissing from a pipe somewhere to his right, but he chose to ignore the sound as he put his hands soundlessly into his pockets.

His head was down, and he didn't bother looking up as he heard approaching footsteps, presumably those belonging to the man he was expecting.

This other man wore a mask, a hideously disfigured scarecrow. Beneath the frightful mask was the face of Dr. Jonathon Crane, Gotham's revered psychiatrist. But by night, and to his desperate clients, he was known as simply the Scarecrow.

"So," the man in the shadows growled, "I see the scum took down two of your men last night."

He looked up at Scarecrow, only his eyes visible in the darkness of the alley they were currently standing in.

"You aren't supposed to let this happen, Jonny."

"I told you already," Scarecrow snapped back, "not to call me _that_. By night, it's Scarecrow."

The other man rolled his eyes and let out a high-pitched giggle, almost as menacing as it was strange. "I'm not like your other clients though, Jonny."

At Scarecrow's attempt to correct him again, the man turned his eyes back on him, two swirling orbs of darkness and intimidation. Scarecrow immediately silenced.

"No. I'm not going to be the one using your…little concoction."

With that, his eyes shifted to the end of the alleyway to the apartment block across the road. He looked up, towards the top of the building and Scarecrow could tell from the way his eyes shifted shape, he was smiling.

"I have more than one with me," Scarecrow admitted, his mask moving, mimicking every word he spoke while its laced up mouth remained in a painful grimace. "They're only fifty dollars each."

The man's eyes lowered again with the speed of a tiger. They narrowed almost as quick.

"No thank you, _Scarecrow_," he sneered bitterly, "I'll only be needin' the one."

"What do you want with it?" Scarecrow enquired suspiciously.

"I need a chance to have a little chat with our District Attorney's little girlfriend…" he answered, looking away again, "…and I doubt Miss Dawes would think to come quietly with a guy like _me_."

"What do you mean, 'a guy like you'?"

The man seemed to have been waiting for this moment to come forward and show his face. He took one step forward, and slowly moved out of the shadows. Even from beneath his mask, Scarecrow's gasp was audible. The other man could almost see him flinch.

"A man like me…with a famous Glasgow smile," he finally said, two grins echoing his dark, humoured tone. One was a natural smile, but an underlying smile was grotesque.

His face was painted white, both his eyelids entirely covered in black make-up. His mouth, from his lips all the way to his ears, was painted a bright red.

"Who did that to you?" Scarecrow spluttered out. The man feigned a look of puzzlement. Then suddenly, his eyes lit up in ire, and his face dawned faux understanding.

"Oh, you mean _this_?" he mocked, gesturing to his disfigured mouth and the horrific scars surrounding it. "That's an interesting story, actually…"

He grinned, pulling a knife from the pocket of his purple coat. Scarecrow backed away a step, but the man shook his head warningly, making Scarecrow freeze in place.

"Would you like to hear it?" he smirked, now standing so close that even a whisper would suffice to be heard over the insistent hissing of the steam behind them.

Without giving Scarecrow another chance to protest, the man ripped off his mask, and in a second, it was gone. The man grabbed Jonathon's cheeks, and raised the knife to his lips, sliding the blade easily into the cavern of his mouth.

Jonathon's eyes were wide in terror, and fear had frozen him stiff. Even if he'd wanted to struggle, he wouldn't have been able to.

"Ya see…" the man started, pressing the side of the blade gently to the corner of Jonathon's mouth, "…my older brother had _dreadful _anger issues. He'd give Richard Nixon a run for his insane amount of money…"

Jonathon's eyes slowly opened, and the man grimaced.

"…so one night, his girlfriend, afraid she'd get on the wrong side of him…she breaks up with him. He is furious, understandably. He comes home that night drunk, and stoned. He and I shared a room, despite the ten-year age difference. So he storms in, slamming the door on his way. There I am, little over seven years old, sitting on the bottom bunk bed, watching TV. He picks up a knife, and holds it to my face."

At this point, the man twitches the knife slightly, causing a single drop of blood to run down into Jonathon's open mouth.

"I panic. But he yells in my face to shut up, and puts the blade in my mouth. He pauses, but then finally, he laughs. Cold, cruel laughter. And then he asks me why I'm so serious, that I should _smile_. Then he does this -"

Jonathon's eyes clenched shut in horror as the blade moved slightly. The man laughed.

"- and that's why they call me the Joker! I'm _always _smiling!"

Joker withdrew the blade from Jonathon's mouth, and pushed him down onto the floor. Jonathon gasped and shook as Joker towered over him, his face suddenly unreadable. He outstretched his hand.

"Give me the drug," he demanded.

Jonathon fumbled around in his pocket, and then held up a single orange pill. Joker snatched it from him with his purple gloved hand.

"Stand up."

Jonathon scrambled to his feet just in time to see a flash of silver raise to his throat.

"I'd appreciate it if you kept this hush-hush, alright? If not…I'll make sure that _you _are always smiling!"

Joker pushed Jonathon back onto the floor as a few drops of rain started to fall. Letting out a maniacal laugh that chilled blood, he started walking away.

He didn't look back as he headed towards the end of the alley, and the rain got heavier, making the make-up on his face run, almost giving him the effect of his face melting.

He raised his eyes once again to Rachel Dawes' apartment window, where a light soon turned off. His insane giggles stopped.

He bowed his head, keeping both eyes firmly trained on the apartment.

"Till tomorrow, Miss Dawes," he grinned.

Jonathon turned to face Joker, to see what he was doing, but the swish of his purple coat around the corner as he disappeared was the last he saw of him.

Safe in her bed, in her warm cosy apartment, Rachel Dawes slept peacefully. A flash of lightning followed by a loud rumble of thunder shook the world outside, but all Rachel did to acknowledge the storm was turn over in her sleep.

* * *

OK, so how was that for an opening? Good? Bad? Great? Dreadful?

**_Please, please review, it means ever so much :)_**

Loza xx


	2. 2 Thunder And Lightning

_I know, I know...no update for over two weeks? What am I thinking? I'm very sorry, but I've been very busy. Forgive me?_

_Anyway, I've lost track of all the reviewers (16 reviews for the first chapter?? I **love** you all!) that I messaged to thank, so I'd just like to say a group thankyou to everyone!!_

**_Anonymous Reviewers Thanks:_**

_**didi: **Thanks, I'll definitely keep this story going :)_

_**Harley Quin: **I'm glad you like it, thankyou!_

_**CC: **Thanks, I'm glad you enjoy reading it :D_

**_Please, please review, it's what spurs me on to write. If there were no reviews, I doubt I'd be writing at all :)_**

**WARNING:** This chapter may contain scenes which may not be suitable for squeamish readers. If you think the rating should be raised to 'M' after this chapter, please tell me. It was going to be changed anyway, just not this soon, so please let me know. Thanks.

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Dangerous Addiction

_Chapter Two_

_Thunder and Lightning_

--

_12th July, 2007._

"Hello?"

Lieutenant Jim Gordon struggled to hear the unfamiliar voice that was on the other end of his outdated mobile phone over the noisy ruckus that surrounded him. Days - and nights - down at MCU were often like this; chaos as many officers and detectives bustled around busily. Sticking his finger in his other ear, Jim managed to make out the next words.

"_I understand that your good friend, Jonathon Crane, escaped Arkham a while back.__"_

The voice had a humorous side to it, almost as if he knew what the following information might mean to the workers at MCU. Jim couldn't help but be suspicious as he confirmed this - this voice was not a voice to be trusted, from the sound of it, and it could very well be nothing but a trap. After all, it was late. Why was someone calling about Crane at this time of night?

"_Well,__"_the man said, and Jim heard him let out a small, menacing giggle that only deepened his distrust, _"__he appears to be lying face down, unconscious, in the alleyway behind _The Bamboo Shoot_. I thought the officers in your department might like to come and investigate. I think he__'__s passed out.__"_

Jim raised his eyebrows disbelievingly. A small distance away, Detective Ramirez looked up from her desk curiously at Jim. He gave a little shake of his head quickly, and Ramirez raised an eyebrow. Turning back away from her, Jim asked,

"How did you get this number?"

Without hesitation, the man replied lightly, _"I called Gotham Police Department and asked to be put through to the head at MCU, because I know that you all deal with people like Crane. Arkham is MCU's responsibility, isn't it?"_

Jim was surprised. This man seemed to be rather knowledgeable of the system…most definitely not a good thing. Or, maybe, in a certain instance, it _was _a good thing, to be connected with someone outside of MCU who knew how it ran.

Jim ran the last thought through his head again, and mentally scoffed. Of _course_ it wasn't a good thing!

"Uh…yes, yes, I suppose it is…um…"

Jim faltered slightly, trying to decide what the best course of action was.

"Where are you now?" he asked.

"_At the end of the alleyway. I thought it best not to leave Crane alone in case anything…uh…happened to him. You can never be too sure with criminals like him about how many are after his drugged up blood."_

'Touché,' Jim thought.

"Alright," he finally spoke defiantly. "I'll arrange for a few officers, plus myself, to come out and investigate. We'll meet you there and -"

"_Oh no no no, I'm afraid I can't do that," _the voice spoke humorously again. Jim could easily see that this man - whoever the hell he was - could certainly get annoying. _"You see…I have somewhere I have to be tonight, and I'm sure you can manage quite fine without me."_

Jim looked to a clock. It was eleven thirty.

"You have somewhere to be at eleven thirty at night?" Jim repeated incredulously, fighting to keep a smug grin off his face. "Surely most 'appointments' take place at a reasonable time during the day?"

"_Party at a … friend's house. Come now, I won't be late for school in the morning!"_

Jim jumped and held the phone away from his ear suddenly as if it had electrocuted him. Even a few of the surrounding workers looked up with confused frowns written across their brows as the high pitched laughter echoed from the earpiece.

As it died down slowly, Jim heard scrambled words in between small giggles, so he put the phone back to his ear.

"_Hahaha … I'm going to have to go now … haha … my friend is waiting … ha … and let me just say this … con-grat-ula-tions on your promotion last month, Co-mmissioner. I'm sure Gotham will be much … _safer _… now with you in charge!"_

Another burst of laughter that erupted from the earpiece attracted stares from people surrounding Gordon, and the line went dead. He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it for a long while.

"That was … odd," he finally said quietly. Snapping out of it - and remembering Crane - he continued, "Right! Ramirez, Johnson and Rogers, you three are with me! Peters, call Arkham and tell them we may have Crane! Granger, try and trace that number - send me any results!"

The officers Jim had named - Ramirez, Johnson and Rogers - had all assembled behind him while he'd barked the rest of his orders out to the others who gazed on, stunned. He nodded his head and set off out of the door towards the MCU car park, where he and Thomas Johnson climbed into one squad car, and Anna Ramirez and Jake Rogers got into another.

Jim let Thomas drive, and he had his mobile phone in hand in case of any news from back at the unit. A few minutes into the frantic driving, he received a text message from Mark Granger.

_The number he called from is listed under the records as belonging to Jonathon Crane, but now there's no answer._

Jim re-read the text a few times before sighing.

"Any problems, boss?" Thomas asked from his left.

Jim closed the message on his phone screen. "It was Crane's number. Whoever that guy was, if he's not there … we've lost him."

"Is that a bad thing?" Thomas asked, puzzled.

Jim smiled grimly. "I'm not sure yet."

--

"For Christ's sake, will you SHUT UP?!"

The Joker cursed as he dug deep into Jonathon Crane's pockets, retrieving the mobile phone he'd only just returned. The number for MCU was flashing up on the screen, before the incessant ringing stopped.

_6 Missed Calls._

Joker stared at the screen as if those words were written in Japanese. Then, when the phone began playing the annoying ringtone again, signalling the seventh attempted call, he glared at it as if it had done him a great personal wrong, and hurled it with all his might against the wall opposite him. It shattered into many tiny pieces of plastic, and the number pad flew off. Joker grinned smugly at the remnants. As if to improve the effect of the smashing, a great flash of white lightning rippled across the sky, followed soon by a rumble of the thunder tearing through the darkened city.

He had returned to the alleyway behind _The Bamboo Shoot _only a minute or so after leaving, to find Crane still on his hands and knees on the floor. He'd stared down at him, and Jonathon Crane knew then his fate in this world was sealed.

It was all taken care of now, though. Crane was dead, and Joker, glancing at the children's clown watch on his wrist, realised he only had a very short amount of time left before the officers from MCU would arrive. He cast one quick glance down at Crane's motionless body, and pulled a playing card out of his pocket. Both of his mouths moved into a malicious grin, and he bent down to slide the card in between Crane's lips to ensure the wind didn't blow it away promptly.

The rain was still pouring down, and it followed Joker as he skulked back through the alley towards the road peeping through the gap in between the two walls on either side.

He didn't bother looking up to the top of the apartment block across the road as he left this time - he had to hurry and disappear before the squad cars arrived and found him there.

In the blink of an eye, he'd gone.

--

"Damn."

Jim stared down at the lifeless body of Jonathon Crane, alias The Scarecrow. Crane's white shirt had been cut open with a knife, revealing horrific fresh marks on the flesh of his torso. There, carved into his skin, were the words,

'WHY SO SERIOUS?'

The wounds were so new, and Crane so obviously recently dead, that they were still bleeding a bit. The red blood dripping from each jagged letter only managed to enhance the insanity that must have been behind this.

The other three officers who'd accompanied Gordon to the scene had stepped back, and Ramirez looked nauseous. The other two men were flinching, but couldn't seem to tear their eyes away.

Jim frowned, noticing for the first time the card that protruded from Crane's mouth. He reached down and pulled it from its confines. Jim couldn't help but wonder what … whoever he was … had meant by the words scrawled onto the white card.

'I COULDN'T RISK IT.'

"Whoever this guy was …" he mused quietly, loud enough only so that the officer next to him, Thomas, could hear. "… we're gonna have to watch out for him. This isn't an ordinary killer."

He looked back down at the body on the floor, and saw something that made his stomach turn. Crane was _smiling_. But, no, not with his _lips_ … but with two terrible scars stretching right the way across his cheeks, which gave him the impression of eternally sneering.

No. This was _not _an average murderer.

This was a psychopath.

* * *

_OK, was that worth the ridiculous wait? I highly doubt it, and I'm sorry for the excessive lameness of that chapter :(_

_And, this is a fic with Rachel, I know, and she'll be coming up next chapter :)_

**_Reviews? You know, some people say reviews are what make the story. I don't know about that, but they certainly help ME make the story ;) sooooo...leave one? Please?_**

Loza xx


	3. 3 Incentive Of A Killer

_Well, at least I didn't keep you waiting as long this time :)_

**_Thanks for all the reviews! If I could marry you all, I might :P_**

_Credit to V For Vendetta for the 'ghost' line._

_Note: I forgot to mention in the last chapter that in this fic, Jim Gordon has already been promoted to Commissioner. I think I'm pretty much writing my own DK, but we'll see ;)_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Dangerous Addiction

_Chapter Three_

_Incentive of a Killer_

--

_12__th__ July, 2007._

Jim Gordon arrived back at MCU with a stony face, accompanied by the three officers he had taken with him. Anna Ramirez looked like she was going to turn green.

"Did you find him?" one of the other officers behind his desk piped up excitedly.

Jim turned his gaze on him briefly and gave a heavy sigh. "Oh, we found him alright."

The other man frowned, craning his neck to see behind the newly arrived party. "Well? Where is he?"

"We sent the homicide department to go check it out," Jim admitted, grimacing at the mental image that presented itself, showing Crane's mangled face and the horrific scars adorning his torso. "It's beyond our expertise."

"He's…dead?" the man asked stupidly. "Well…how?"

"I'm not sure you wanna know, Derek," Anna said quietly. "It wasn't very nice."

Derek glanced at Jim for confirmation, who silently nodded. Derek cringed.

"Which is why we'll need you to put a call through to Arkham. Tell them that we found Crane, but he's most definitely in no position to join them anymore," Jim commanded grimly.

Derek nodded and Jim's accompanying officers hung their coats up on their pegs by the doorway, before returning to their desk; Anna was visibly trembling. Jim frowned at her odd behaviour; she had seen worse murders before in her stay in the homicide department, so why was tonight such a big deal?

He pondered over it for another brief moment before his mind was distracted by Derek telling him that the head of Arkham wanted to talk to him.

By the time he had hung up, he had forgotten what was troubling him.

--

_13__th__ July, 2007._

Harvey Dent glanced at his watch for what felt like the millionth time in the twenty minutes that had passed since he had realised Rachel was either going to be late, or wasn't going to be there at all.

He was sitting at a small table for two in a little café not far from the building where he and Rachel both worked, he as Gotham's District Attorney, and she as one of his assistants. So why was she so late if they were heading from the same place?

As he moved to check his watch again, a rather out of breath Rachel appeared by the table, trying to smooth down her windswept brown hair.

"I'm so sorry, Harvey!" she panted frantically. "I got held up at the office - people kept asking me how we were going to deal with the Maroni case, and I lost track of time and -"

Harvey smiled, holding up his hands to stop her mid-rant. "Hey, Rachel, it's OK, I don't mind. You're here now, aren't you? No biggie."

He gave her another warm smile and gestured for her to sit down opposite him. She took off her black blazer and draped it around the back of her chair.

"So, any news on the Maroni case?" Harvey asked interestedly, picking up a menu. Rachel did the same.

"No, not yet," she answered. "The only thing we have against him is the statement from Rossi. If anything goes wrong in the courtroom, that's not enough to convict."

"I'm sure everything will be fine," Harvey reassured her, casting his eyes back down to the menu, giving a small chuckle a moment later. "I think I'll pass on the soup today, though…"

Rachel frowned, looking at him. "Why? What's wrong with it?"

"Oh, nothing, I'm sure," he grinned, "but I'm not risking it on Friday the thirteenth."

Rachel rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically at Harvey being so naïve. "I can't believe you sometimes, Harvey, since when did you become so superstitious? Knowing you, if a black cat crossed your path on the way home you'd scream like a little girl."

"Hey!" he protested defensively. "That only happened once…"

Rachel smirked.

"Anyway, I think we might have a bigger problem on our hands than prosecuting Maroni," he muttered grimly.

Rachel's eyes widened as she looked at him in surprise. "Really? But we've been after this guy for months!"

"I know," he nodded, "but the Commissioner - Jim Gordon - called me a couple of hours ago. He said that -"

"Hi, may I take your order?" a chirpy young waitress sounded from beside them. When had she gotten there?

Rachel smiled up at her young, round face, and sparkling blue eyes. "Uh, yes. We'd like two bowls of soup please. I'd like a Diet Coke with that, and Harvey?"

Harvey glared at her for ordering the soup, and then turned back to the waitress. "I'll just have a water with mine, thanks."

The waitress nodded and wrote it down on a small notepad and scurried away, leaving Harvey and Rachel alone again.

"So, anyway," Harvey continued irritably, "Gordon told me that Jonathon Crane was found dead late last night, in some alleyway somewhere. He had…" Harvey scrunched up his face in disgust, "…terrible wounds, apparently."

Rachel raised an eyebrow, grinning slightly. "I fail to see how that's a bad thing. I mean, weren't we looking for him anyway? Maybe Batman decided to do us a favour and beat us to it."

"Be serious, Rachel," Harvey snapped. "Whoever the murderer was, he's not our friend. And he _certainly _wasn't flying around with a black cape and bat ears."

"Batman is more than a black cape and bat ears, Harvey," Rachel mumbled quietly, lowering her eyes. "He helps us."

"Well, he wants to hurry up and help us with _this _guy."

Rachel bit her tongue from saying something she'd regret - like admitting Batman was actually Bruce Wayne, and that he certainly had a lot on his mind and enough on his plate without trying to track down an unknown murderer with next to no clues.

"Well, was there anything at the scene that might point us in his direction?" Rachel asked, moving away from the topic of Batman. "Any fingerprints or hairs?"

Harvey shook his head. "Nothing. The guy's like a ghost. But Jim thinks he might have uncovered an incentive. The homicide department took care of it after Jim's unit moved out, and they searched Crane. They found his pockets stuffed with loads of pills. Illegally acquired pills, at that."

"Well, what were they?"

Harvey lowered his voice and leaned over the table as he answered, "Alprazolam. The drug itself isn't illegal, but Crane certainly isn't one to walk into a pharmacy and order as much as he was carrying. Which makes Jim think that his methods of acquiring are definitely … questionable."

"So, this guy killed Crane to get the drugs? No offence to you or Gordon, but I think a smart guy would kill someone then actually _take _what they were after. It's kinda stupid to leave what you came for."

Harvey opened his mouth to answer with a clever retort, but found none, so he closed his mouth again. "Remind me again why you aren't working down at MCU?" he grumbled light-heartedly.

Rachel laughed. "Because those kinds of intelligent outbursts are very rare and I doubt I'd be much use the rest of the time."

Harvey smiled. "And here I was, thinking that you liked your job because you were close to me…"

Rachel took hold of his hand reassuringly. "Of course that's the only reason."

--

Rachel set down her briefcase and took off her blazer as she arrived behind her desk in her office. She sat down in her computer chair and turned on the monitor. Harvey had been called into a meeting about Maroni's trial, and the assistants weren't needed apparently, so she resigned herself to her curiosity and opened the internet browser.

She went to Google and entered in the search bar, 'Alprazolam'.

Immediately, she got up a long list of pages with loads of information about it, and she quickly deduced that it was commonly sold as an anti-anxiety pill under the brand name Xanax. She frowned, wondering why a killer would want any of this. Overdose didn't seem like a very promising prospect. It was too simple in the eyes of modern day killers.

As an Assistant D.A., she managed to use her official government ID to load up the files that were held at MCU, and Gotham Police Department. She looked towards the top of the screen and typed Alprazolam into a search bar.

A long list appeared in front of her:

_Weir, Alex.  
__Listed as missing: 14__th__ June, 1998.  
__Found: 27__th__ October, 2002. Deceased.  
__Kidnapped. **Alprazolam** believed to be used in aid of capture through anaesthetic properties. Criminals caught._

_Richards, John.  
__Listed as missing: 23__rd__ February, 2001.  
__Found: 17__th__ August, 2005. Deceased.  
__Kidnapped. **Alprazolam** found in system of body; believed to be used frequently, and in aid of capture through anaesthetic properties. Criminals caught._

Rachel could pretty much predict the pattern of the rest of the list, so she dug into the pockets of her blazer until she pulled out her mobile phone. She dialled 9-1-1, and waited for an answer.

"_Good afternoon, you have reached Emergency Services. Do you require ambulance, police, or fire department?"_

"Um, police, please."

"_Pleas__e wait while we connect you through to your desired service."_

Rachel rolled her eyes. How were these people helpful in any way during an emergency? Then it occurred to her that maybe she'd sounded a bit _too _calm when she'd asked for police.

"_You have reached Gotham Police Department. How may we help?"_

"Uh … hi. I need to be put through to the Major Crimes Unit, please. I need to speak with Commissioner Gordon."

"_Is he expecting a call from you?"_

"No, but it's very important."

"_I will connect you. Please wait."_

There was a pause, then a small click. The dialling tone began again, until a tired voice sounded on the other end.

"_Hello?"_

"Commissioner Gordon?" Rachel verified.

"_Yes, can I help?"_

"Uh … yes. This is Rachel Dawes speaking, Assistant D.A. Harvey informs me that you discovered Alprazolam in the pockets of the deceased Jonathon Crane. I ran a few searches and it seems that it's been used in one or two kidnappings over the last decade. Do you have any more information on this?"

There was a heavy sigh on the other end. It was very clear that the Commissioner had been up very late the previous night, and up very early that morning. A man like him must be very deprived of sleep. For a moment, Rachel felt pity towards the older man.

"_One or two is most definitely an understatement, Miss Dawes…"_

There was a brief pause and Rachel heard the sound of typing in the background. The pause stretched on without the typing sound, and she wondered for a second if Gordon had fallen asleep on his keyboard.

"_It seems that it's been used quite a lot in kidnappings over the last decade. Not far off half, actually; about forty percent. It's definitely more used than we'd like it to be."_

"I can understand that," Rachel agreed. "Well, thank you, Commissioner. I hope you catch the murderer."

"_So do I, Miss Dawes," _he said sadly, _"so do I."_

The line went dead before Rachel could reassure him that everything would be alright.

* * *

_Ok, how was that? You'd be surprised just how much I researched alprazolam to write this chapter...anyway!_

**_Reviews make my sad little world go around, so would you be so kind as to leave one? Virtual Joker cookies go to anyone who does!_**

**_Anonymous Reviewer Thanks:_**

_**o.Rose: **Haha, yes! You did have me worried briefly, but then I read the rest of the review and was very relieved :P Thanks, I'm glad you like it! And I'll definitely keep writing!_

Loza xx


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